


Lord of the Manor

by iulia_linnea



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-26
Updated: 2012-10-26
Packaged: 2017-11-17 02:37:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/546712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iulia_linnea/pseuds/iulia_linnea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After awakening with Lucius, Harry is in no doubt that he likes cock, Lucius' almost more than his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lord of the Manor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [missingkeys](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=missingkeys).



> This fic follows [Lady in Waiting](http://archiveofourown.org/works/546703) and was written on 22 April 2012 in response to [missingkeys](http://missingkeys.livejournal.com/profile)'s prompt of _Lucius/girl!Harry: quill_.

Harry lay tangled up in Lucius' arms, listening to him snore. It was . . . nice. Well, all right, it was a bit weird, and also warm, and . . . nice. "I should be able to think of another adjective," Harry murmured.

Lucius shifted and frowned but didn't wake. Harry propped himself up on an elbow and watched him, hardly able to believe what he'd allowed Lucius to do to him, or what he'd done to Lucius.

_I do not know how to feel about this_ , he thought, realising that Lucius' snoring had suddenly ceased. "You're awake, aren't you?"

"If you desire a word, I've a library—in which no one is attempting to sleep."

Harry snorted, starting at how feminine it sounded before sighing deeply. "What I need is a pronoun."

"Ah," Lucius replied, opening his eyes. "I believe we've established that you prefer wizards to witches."

Harry flushed.

"But the question is, Harry, do you prefer being a witch more than a wizard?"

Harry sat up. "There's no reason to ask that question. I can't _be_ a wizard again."

"There is every reason to ask that question because it has a bearing on how you'll learn to accept your situation." Lucius rose from the bed and moved to the nearby desk.

Harry didn't ask him for what he was looking, instead he said, "This isn't actually your bedroom, is it?" and saw Lucius' back stiffen.

"The size gave it away, did it?" Lucius asked, pulling a quill and a sheet of parchment from one of the drawers.

"No, it's not just that it seems too small. It's that it doesn't seem lived in."

"Take these," Lucius told Harry, Summoning a book and handing the lot to Harry.

"Why?"

"That quill won't allow you to lie."

"It's not going to use my blood for ink, is it?" Harry asked, his eyes widening.

"No." Lucius sat down on the bed's edge. "It's a pity Dolores wasn't killed in the battle."

Harry shifted a bit, still finding it difficult to manoeuvre around his breasts, and made a desk out of his knees and the book. "I'm actually not going to argue with you about that. What am I supposed to be writing?"

"Do you like being a witch, Harry?" 

Harry shivered. "I—"

Lucius shook his head. "Don't speak. Write."

Harry looked at the quill; it seemed normal, but when he answered Lucius' question, he knew it was anything but.

"Read me your answer."

"It's embarrassing."

"Read it, anyway."

"'I'm not a witch, but I like being one for your cock'," Harry whispered, feeling his entire body heat uncomfortably.

" _Fuck_ ," Lucius muttered, rather savagely.

"I _told_ you it was—"

Lucius' mouth on his was amazing. It was strong and possessive and not wet at all, and it made Harry's body tingle everywhere it had been before in spite of the fact that only their lips and tongues were touching. Suddenly overwhelmed by what he was feeling, Harry pulled away.

"You . . . you just _happened_ to have . . . a truth-telling quill on hand."

Lucius smiled. "Arthur never did manage to find everything in his raids."

"You were planning this, weren't you?" 

"Of course I was, Harry. What wizard wasn't?" Lucius reached out to stroke Harry's jaw.

Hating himself for it, Harry leaned into Lucius' hand.

"Fuck," Lucius said, more quietly this time.

"What's wrong?"

Lucius glanced away from Harry for a moment before turning his gaze back to him and staring. Just as Harry was about to repeat his question, Lucius murmured, "I did not expect you to . . . affect me."

"You're not saying something. Write down what you're not saying. Use the quill."

Lucius sighed, but he did as Harry asked him to.

"Read it."

Instead, Lucius handed Harry the parchment. It read:

> I lied. I know how to restore you, but I don't want to.

"What?" Harry demanded. "But _why_?"

"Because if I do, you'll still like cock, but I won't want yours."

"Fuck!" exclaimed Harry.

Lucius drew in a long breath, releasing it as he breathlessly said, "Yes, shall we? Once more before you insist on taking your cure?"

"It doesn't feel like my body."

"I know," Lucius replied, "and you never should have been cursed as you were."

"And you never would have told me about the cure if you hadn't been planning to fix Draco." 

"It would have been difficult to explain, yes."

Crossing his arms, Harry said, "So, rather than just telling me you could help me, you _used_ me."

"It would be fair, I think, to say we used each other. You are in no doubt as to what you want now, I trust?"

Harry's mouth worked but no sound emerged from it, and frustrated, he threw himself back down on the bed.

Lucius followed him with his own body, stretching out next to Harry as he drew a fingertip up his thighs, through his curls, and farther still until he was teasing one of Harry's nipples to hardness. 

It was the only hard thing about Harry, who said, "Yes, I do want you again . . . almost more than I want—"

"That's the eighteen-year-old boy in you," Lucius replied, before sucking Harry's nipple into his mouth.

Inexplicably, Harry found himself saying, "You're still in love . . . with your wife. _That's_ why you didn't take me back to—oh!" Lucius had moved faster than Harry would have believed possible to force his cock between his thighs and into his cunt. 

"We. Will. Not. Speak. Of. My. Wife," he said, punctuating each word with a sharp, thick thrust.

It stung a bit, being fucked so peremptorily, especially after only just having been deflowered, but Harry didn't mind. He wasn't even angry with Lucius for having, essentially, danced him into bed without telling him about the cure to his curse beforehand.

_He's lonely_ , Harry thought, as if that excused everything. "I like it, Lucius, I do. I like _cock_."

"I . . . I know," he replied, crushing his mouth to Harry's.

_I like cock_ , Harry thought, _and I'm going to have mine back!_

At least, he hoped he was. As aroused as he felt, Harry was still able to think clearly enough to realise that Lucius might be lying, or might not actually mean to give him the cure—but as he wrapped his legs high up around Lucius' back, he couldn't be arsed to care.


End file.
